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May 01, 2023
Anna Foat
Can inanimate objects absorb the karma of their surroundings? I didn't think so, until I bought a paddleboat called Big Bertha last summer. But now I do. And I have a thesis for living better and a perspective on how this might translate to corporate innovation.
We own a little camp in the bush that we call Camp Foat. It's where I escape when I need a digital detox and to clear my head. One of our neighbours sold their camp and had a paddleboat called Big Bertha she no longer needed. It spent the better part of 40 years sitting in the sand, usually under a big wet sandy tarp. She asked around to see if anyone wanted it and when asked if I wanted it, I said no.
A few weekends after that, my neighbour came over and said she'd part with Big Bertha for $250. I said fine to keep the neighbourly peace.
The kids asked if they could take the boat out, and we obliged. We tightened and oiled up the chain and dragged the heavy and awkward boat into the shallow water. We put life jackets on everyone and gave them a bit of space to play. Watching from the beach, we told them to stay within shouting distance, but to have fun. It didn't take long for them to understand how the paddleboat worked. As we watched from the shore my husband said, “Well, I guess it's good for one play session.”
The next day, the kids woke up filled with ideas on what they could do with Big Bertha. They rounded up some more boys to join in the fun. Before we knew it, 7 small kids had piled onto the watercraft. No other boats had that feature — they were meant for one or two riders. So, Bertha gave them the ability to boat as a group, which they loved. Where I saw awkward and bulky, they saw autonomy and space for friends.
With this feature, the kids realized that they could use this as a swimming platform. It was better than the tippy dock moored out in a static spot. They could paddle Bertha to a new spot whenever they wanted. Where I saw heavy, they saw stability and freedom.
Then they pulled all the boats and anything else that could float out onto the lake and do battle. Bertha was home base for the "good guys." Where I saw ugly, they saw an opportunity to create new games for the group.
We quickly conceded that we were wrong. This $250 investment was a great one. Bertha was perfect for the kids, and we were happy to have her. But Bertha had a much bigger lesson to teach us. At first, Big Bertha was my Big Burden. But it didn't take long for her to become loved by everyone. Our neighbours now use her even when we aren't there.
A few thoughts from this experience keep me investing in optimism and believing that innovation is possible:
We usually have existing things figured out well already. Generally, the new is at least part of the old, with a different twist or use. Our job is to see new ways of how the old can work with the new.
Director, Design Literacy and Education Strategy, Global Digital Strategy Enterprise Centre of Excellence.